Resurface
by Kara Malarkey
Summary: Slight AU - Tom Riddle is on the treacherous road to immortality. While in Albania however, he encounters an old wizard who is prepared to duel him to the death. Tom barely escapes with his life intact when a boy snatches him from the grip of death. TR/HP
1. Midnight Oil

**Author's Notes:**

Rating: T (due to violence and some nudity.)

Pairing: TR/HP - Alternate Universe

Disclaimer: I do not, in any way, own Harry Potter. I do not make any money from writing this fic. All this is purely for entertainment (and a distraction from homework).

Summary: Tom Riddle is on his way to immortality, slowly but surely achieving his goal of 6 Horcruxes. In Albania however, he encounters an old wizard who is prepared to duel him to the death. Tom barely escapes with his life intact when a boy snatches him from the grip of death.

Hiya! This is just my second piece of work for this fandom, and I have absolutely no idea where I want this to go. I've already started the second chapter, but I wanted a bit of feedback to give me ideas on what should happen next. Please note that this is set in an _Alternate Universe _where Tom has just graduated from Hogwarts (maybe 2 or 3 years ago) and is now in Albania, about to go look for the diadem in order to make it into a Horcrux. Thanks for taking an interest in this story, and it would be awesome if you would review. :D

**_- - - - Resurface - - - -_**

**_Chapter 1: Midnight Oil_**

The night was cold. Inhaling in it would assault your taste buds with a strange tingling sweetness. This was what calmed his nerves when he apparated into the border of the forest. In his panic, he was not even sure of where he had gone. Hopefully it was still in Albania. What he was certain of though, was that his attacker had the means to follow him, so he quickly made his way into the maze of trees, ignoring his injuries. He no longer had the magic to apparate once more.

Abruptly, this man – deathly pale with dark brown hair that almost looked black from the damp of sweat – stumbled into a clearing in the middle of the woods. _Am I safe? Is this far enough? _He was panting desperately, the adrenaline that was once surging through his veins now dissipated. Sunken black eyes and defined cheekbones made themselves even gaunter by the shadows. He took hold of a nearby tree and tried to gather himself. He had been running for perhaps an hour now, surely his enemy would have relented?

Cursing breathlessly in Parseltongue, Tom Riddle pressed his fingers to his temple and retracted them to frown blearily at his fingers, now covered with his blood. He could not see it clearly in the dim moonlight, but the rust pervading his sense of smell was proof enough.

_"Vulnera Sanentur… Vulnera Sanentur,"_ he cast twice only, since this small gash did not require a third incantation. He was also doubtful if he could successfully cast it again. The other wounds however…

To say that the impromptu duel with the old wizard drained his core was a severe understatement. Tom, who had never actually experienced magical depletion due to his exceptional reserves, could barely heal his wounds or cast a simple Lumos. He could only grit his teeth in anger and frustration. He was about to pass out, and he knew it. He hadn't even been able to create his third Horcrux! He would've banged the tree trunk with his fist if he had had the energy.

Tom's knees buckled, and he sank to the forest floor like dead weight, drowning in an ocean of thick black midnight oil.

He looked up; his blurry vision resembling a glass separating him from the world he knew was there. Before he sank, he could've sworn a face like an apparition swam into view; green eyes piercing through the water and through his soul.


	2. Faerie Green and Onyx Black

**Author's Notes:**

Rating: T

Pairing: TR/HP - Alternate Universe

Disclaimer: I don't own it. Or else the fourth book might be something along the lines of: Harry helps Tom get resurrected and the Dark Lord shags him senseless. They live happily ever after. THE END.

Summary of last chapter: Tom is injured, stumbles around in a forest, faints due to magical exhaustion, and sees a face with green eyes just before he goes under.

College this week was hell. Also, I really have no idea where to take this fic, so please don't expect quick updates. I'm very sorry about that. If you guys have suggestions or want to see anything, I'm open to ideas! And a HUMONGOUS thanks to everyone who favorite'd or put this story on their alerts. Special thanks to **galliechan **for reviewing my ridiculously short first chapter. :D

**_- - - - Resurface - - - -_**

**_Chapter 2: Faerie Green and Onyx Black_**

"_Boy,"_

Where was he?

_I can see the Albanian forest border just a few meters away._ Or was it a mile?_ That diadem is as good as mine. _But he wasn't sure; everything looked so blurry, as if it were…

"_You must leave this village, boy. We may be wizards like you, but we have fought long and hard to contain the darkness within those forests, and we will not have you tampering with the protections."_

_The man spoke in a strange mixed accent, and the way he was calling me 'boy' did nothing to appease my annoyance. He also reminded me of a certain Transfiguration professor. The corner of my lip twitched in ire._

"_You must be mistaken old man. I have no ill intent towards – "_

_Apparently the wizard tired of my lies. Instead he sent a silent Bombarda at a nearby stone wall. I did not have time to react before the debris was sent flying in every direction, a piece hitting me sharply on the head. I hissed sharply in pain and clutched at the wound. I would have healed it immediately had my attacker not sent a barrage of offensive spells that had me struggling to counter._

"_Your soul is disgustingly mutilated, boy! And I'd bet my wand you aren't even halfway finished with your plans. You reek of dark magic!" The way he said 'reek' made even I feel repulsive about myself. Perhaps he was lacing persuasive magic into his speech? My theory proved itself when he went on to shout, "Leave! Go back to where you came from!" and I felt a burning anxiety to flee from Albania. Whether it was from his suggestions or from his sheer power, I didn't know._

_Trunks, leaves, vines and branches rushed past as I feebly attempted to duel this wizened, blatantly stronger wizard. I had to admit that in my young age, I was clearly no match for him, despite my exceptional talent. He cast a dark spell that I thought had missed me, but I soon realized that it __had__ hit me and was draining me of my energy and magic. I'd never heard of an incantation that could do this, and I could only hope that my reserves would be replenished eventually._

"_Run all you want boy! I'll not have you unleashing the power of this forest with your evil intentions!"_

_And so I did run. I did not even truly know the depth of the darkness in these Albanian forests. I had only planned to find that tree in which Ravenclaw's daughter hid the diadem. Was my split soul really that easily identified? No, this man was just too powerful. What was he doing in rural Albania?_

_Forest whizzed past until I could not even discern their shapes. I could still hear the wizard's steps, his feet crunching down on layers of fallen leaves. These sounds were fading though, until I could only hear my breath, the slight whoosh of the wind, and a strange sweet humming. I continued to glance behind me to see if he was still there, but there was nothing save a light catching up to me, encroaching from within the gaps between trees (I could've sworn it was dusk); I ran and ran, until there was nothing but humming, nothing, humming, humming…_

And suddenly the light was in front of him, blinding his eyes despite being behind eyelids. Tom was lying on something soft that smelled of fruit and earth and something else he couldn't pinpoint. The humming was there, clearer now that he had emerged from his nightmare; he cautiously opened his eyes an inch. The light was bright, but not overwhelmingly blinding, so he opened them fully.

He was lying on the lap of a boy – a _teenager_, it seemed – and he was doing something to the head injury Tom thought he had already healed. Apparently not. Tom couldn't however, see the boy's face, the light barring his vision.

The boy was humming a tune while from the hands he had cupped over Tom's head emitted a greenish light. It was comforting and strangely familiar, and Tom could feel the aching soreness slowly dissipate. An emotion he did not think he would ever feel trickled through him: '_trust'_ something in his gut told him, however loathe he was to admit it was right_._ He breathed in and felt that his other injuries had also been healed; he could no longer feel the broken ribs he was sure he was sporting from the battle. He was still in his stained and matted suit though, and it agitated his skin.

Tom blearily noted that it was still dark. He encountered the wizard just before sunset, he was sure of that now… Maybe it was late evening? The healing light faded, and Tom was finally able to look up at his savior. He inhaled sharply – yet inaudibly – at the beauty of boy in front of him. What struck him first were his eyes. They were amazingly green glinting emeralds staring right back at his chocolate brown ones. Tom had never seen green eyes those luminescent, and the boy's mussed feathery pitch-black hair and moonlight-pale skin only seemed to make him look more unearthly. He had a smooth yet angular jaw and pale pink lips; his nose stately and slightly Grecian. The combination of black, pale white and green gave him an otherworldly glow, almost faerie-like.

The boy noticed his state of awareness and gave him a fond smile. Tom was taken aback by this. This boy found him and snatched him from death's claws, he who he probably knew next to nothing about, healed him, cared for him, and was now smiling as if… Dare he say it? As if Tom were a long lost friend or… A returning _lover_.

It was then that Tom noticed that the boy was nude, leaning against the trunk of some sort of coniferous tree; a silk sheet splayed on his thighs the only thing separating Tom's head and his bare legs. Tom would've drawn away, sputtering and blushing, if not for his exceptional control, and the fact that his body would not cooperate. It was feeling quite heavy and content at the moment.

The pair of them gazed at each other for a while through the moonlit darkness; Tom with a guarded ease, and his savior with a curious glint in his eyes, until Tom could not take the intense stare a minute longer and sat up despite his body's protests. He was not, if anything, known for his exceptional resolve. He then turned to sit comfortably facing the stranger.

"Thank you," he said, with as much dignity and nobility he could muster. The boy only continued to stare at him unnervingly. _Maybe he doesn't speak English_, but Tom was almost sure he could understand what he said, so he decided to try again, all the while determinedly training his gaze on the stranger's captivating green eyes, and not on anywhere else on his exposed body – not that he seemed to mind. While Tom was inwardly struggling with his words, the other man proceeded to conjured a ball of green light that hovered in mid-air.

Tom nodded at the stranger in thanks for the light, "It was very generous of you to restore me to health when you knew nothing about me. For that, I am deeply grateful. May I inquire as to your identity?" Tom knew he was being rude by not introducing himself first while asking him who he was, but he was too wary to care.

The Faerie, as Tom had by now dubbed the boy in his mind (for he undoubtedly looked like one, save the ears) just continued to stare into his eyes. Tom briefly wondered if Legilimency was being used on him, but was convinced that he would sense it if it were the case. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity to Tom, the Faerie exhaled a breath that resembled a laugh, his lips quirking up in an amused smile. He moved forward to unbutton the creased white dress shirt Tom wore beneath a black blazer. Tom's hands immediately grabbed the Faerie's thin wrists, but the Faerie only brought up his index finger to Tom's lips to silence him and continued to undress him.

By now, Tom was thoroughly confused and outraged, "What are you doing?" he asked, careful to keep his tone calm and absolutely not hysterical. Everything this boy was doing was either irritating or baffling him, for although he was undressing Tom, he didn't appear to have any sexual motives whatsoever. He had enough escapades at Hogwarts to distinguish _those_.

The Faerie simply slipped both the shirt and the blazer slightly to the side to reveal Tom's moderately toned chest: the greenish orb illuminated a huge white scar extending from Tom's lower right back to beneath his diaphragm. It looked quite tender and gave off an imperceptible stench. Not an olfactory one per se, but the feel it gave was quite nauseating. It shocked him that he didn't even notice he had been that wounded, and he didn't even want to think of what it had been like when it was open.

Suddenly, the Faerie's voice, crisp and clear as a bell, sounded: neither too deep nor too high. It relaxed Tom. "This wound was what made me heal you. It was stinking up my peaceful clearing," he said. Tom could only widen his eyes by a fraction, too surprised to be offended. "Whoever you were fighting was pretty determined to never let you see the light of day again. The 'smell' will dissipate once you rest and recover all your magic. I suggest you stay here for a while. He might pick up the scent and finish the job."

Tom furrowed his brow in confusion and opened his mouth to ask, but the boy beat him to the punch and went on to further explain.

"Your enemy shot you with a curse that ate your magic, yeah?" Tom nodded, "a curse like that needs to have a physical handle on the intended for it to really take hold. If you cast it and your enemy somehow flees from battle to safety, the body's naturally replenishing magic would just cancel out the curse and you would still fully recover, albeit it would take longer than normal." Tom nodded to signal he understood. The Faerie trailed feather-light touches on the sensitive patch of scar. Tom's breath caught in his throat, his body tensing from the sensation, but the Faerie just continued, "therefore you must make some sort of mark on the body for the curse to hold onto. He must've really wanted you dead if he attached the curse to a wound this large. I assume you were running at the time? This isn't exactly a vital organ zone."

Tom nodded mutely, reflecting over the attack in Albania. His head shot up to look at the Faerie once again.

"Where are we?"

"Greece, north of Orfeas," he replied, buttoning Tom's shirt back up. Even smoothing out the wrinkles and creasing the collar. Tom's hands twitched with indecision over whether to stop the Faerie or let him continue. His strangely intimate touches were very comforting. Tom couldn't remember any of his lover's touches giving him this sense of… _ease_. And somehow, he couldn't bring himself to ask the Faerie's name. Something was telling him that it didn't really matter.

The Faerie finished meticulously fixing his outfit and gently laid his hands on Tom's shoulders. Tom looked into his vibrant green eyes with his confused chocolate ones.

"I'm sure you're still exhausted from the battle. You did deplete your magical core after all," the fingers on his shoulders tightened their hold. "You should stay here for a while."

Tom raised an aristocratic eyebrow, "Here?" he asked. _In this clearing?_ He thought incredulously.

The Faerie only barely suppressed a laugh and released Tom's shoulders. His hands, almost absently, went to the white silk still covering his dignity and tied it up and around his chest and waist to make an elegant Grecian drape. The Faerie then stood up and extended a hand to Tom, "No, silly. Come with me."

Ignoring being called "silly", Tom stood up and brushed his pants of dirt and grass. He eyed the Faerie's hand disdainfully, but the Faerie just rolled his eyes and grabbed Tom's hand. Tom took a deep breath to ready himself for apparition, but he saw that the Faerie wasn't twisting, instead taking a step forward, and his foot seemed to _sink into the soil_ as if it were _liquid._ Tom's eyes widened comically in surprise when the rest of the Faerie's body sank into the earth and Tom realized _he was going in there too_. Only the intense shock kept Tom from screaming and flailing in panic; that and the soil swallowing him up.

His sight was suddenly engulfed by darkness. Tom felt rather than saw himself traveling swiftly through a series of… _Vines?_ No, they weren't vines but… _Roots_. He was traveling through interconnected roots _underground_. He thought of the green-eyed beauty and wondered what sort of magic he wielded. Tom never even thought this sort of travel was _possible_. Who exactly was this boy? These thoughts were being dashed as they were made for the underground travel wasn't exactly familiar to Tom, and he found it amazingly dizzying. Like his being was being sucked forward and his body left behind.

Then suddenly, the darkness around him was lifting, and Tom sensed they were nearing their destination. He was suddenly pulled upwards, his body slamming into his consciousness. The Faerie emerged from the soil as if it were water, and Tom almost flailed around to find purchase. Almost. The Faerie finally took pity on him and hauled him up by the hand. Tom successfully got out, breathless from panic and rested on his knees, hands fisted so tightly into the grass that his knuckles were turning white.

Tom could just _sense _the Faerie smirking at him, and he took a few breaths to get his heartbeat and vision back to normal. "Couldn't hurt to have given a warning, eh?" he gasped out, a muffled snort answering his question.

"What would be the fun in that?"

Tom shook his head, his face a mix between a grimace, a smirk, and upheaval-of-stomach-contents. The Faerie suddenly knelt down and rubbed soothing circles into his back. Tom found this helped calm him greatly, and when he was sure he wasn't going to hyperventilate, he stood up and surveyed his surroundings.

Tom saw that it wasn't as dark as before, _Ah, it must be dawn then._ And before his eyes, the scenery was gradually painted in yellows and light oranges. They were once again, in another clearing, although it was at least five times bigger than the Faerie's clearing. The trees formed a rough circle around the grassy space, and Tom could sense a strong ward around the perimeter. It gave off a strange feel however, and Tom realized it was similar to the Faerie's magic. He mentally noted to investigate later.

In the middle of the circle was a humble two-storey stone cottage with a slanting roof. The stones were a charming light grey, and the wooden doors and windows a cool pastel blue. A few flower pots filled with lavenders and irises here and there showed signs of life, and Tom looked at the Faerie to ask, "Do you live here?" He noticed that the Faerie stood up sometime during his observations. He looked just as stunning in the day as he did at night.

"A hunter built it long ago, but he died here, and no one came to pay respects or live in his cottage, so I come by to do maintenance every once in a while. So no, I don't live here." The Faerie turned to him with a questioning look, "Are you alright?" he asked. Tom nodded, and was rewarded with a refreshing smile. "Let's go," he said, and grabbed Tom's hand once again.

The inside of the house was very modest. To the right of the entrance was a stone fireplace with a musty yet comfortable looking maroon couch resting upon an elaborately patterned royal blue rug. To the left was the kitchen and dining area. The counters were equally tasteful yet modest, and the table simple and wooden. At the end of the first floor, running perpendicular to where Tom was standing was a staircase, a bookcase facing it.

"The bedrooms are upstairs, come on," so Tom was ushered towards the stairs, and he felt a strange fatigue creep up on him. Was his core so exhausted that he could only be conscious for a few hours? Tom absently noted the three doors on the second floor as he was ushered into the last one on the left.

Tom feebly stifled a yawn when his eyes caught sight of the very inviting bed. His suit was transfigured into a pair of black silk pyjamas, but he barely noticed. Tom knew he should've been outraged as he was being tucked into bed, but with the extremely comfortable bed and the sight of the beautiful creature bathing in the sunlight from the window in front of him, he couldn't really bring himself to care. _Oh, if his Death Eaters could see him now._

The Faerie then leant over to brush away a few strands of Tom's hair from his face, and Tom found that the touch gave him a sense of peace he simply couldn't fight. Tom was about to slip into a blissful sleep when the god-send sitting on his bedside suddenly bent over and pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead, and Tom could've sworn, as he slipped once more into unconsciousness, that the Faerie smelled of delicious black olives.


	3. Animus Revelio

**Author's Notes:**

Rating: T

Pairing: TR/HP - Alternate Universe

Disclaimer: I do not, in any way, own Harry Potter. I do not make any money from writing this fic. All this is purely for entertainment (and a distraction from homework).

Summary of last chapter: Tom has woken up from his memory-dreams of the old wizened wizard attacking and overpowering him, to find that a mysterious "Faerie" has healed his wounds. Despite all of Tom's paranoia, there's something about the Faerie he just can't refuse.

**So I totally messed up the latter parts of Chapter 2. If you guys are interested, I re-uploaded it with some added bits. I fear that I might be doing this a lot, but I will notify you guys if ever I do.

A great big enormous THANK YOU from the very bottom of my fangirl heart for all of you guys who put this on their Story Alerts, Favorite Stories, or Favorite Authors (I was surprised at that) or whatever! I really didn't expect it. Also, a heartfelt special mention to all my reviewers: **Kitsumi-Hime**, **999KitKat999**, **Aya Macchiato**, **brightsun89**, **Madd Girl**, and **ixamxeverywhere**. You guys are the reason I push myself to write this. Y'all just made my month!

**_- - - - Resurface - - - -_**

**_Chapter 3: Animus Revelio_**

Tom was jarred awake from his peaceful slumber (daresay it was his most peaceful ever) by two voices arguing downstairs. He squinted his eyes at the blinding sunlight streaming in through the window on his left, too sluggish to lift a hand to spare his vision. Watching the specks of dust floating in the rays, it took a while for him to remember where he was, why he was there, and why he was awake.

Tom had heard the opening of the pastel blue door downstairs. Then a man's voice, rough yet young, "You shouldn't stay so far away! You know it's dangerous!" He sounded exasperated yet incensed.

"Why should it matter? And it's not that far from your base in Sidirochori," a voice Tom recognized as the Faerie's replied.

The door was closed. "It takes a full day's hike to – "

"Are you a wizard or not?" a long pause during which Tom thought the wizard stubbornly mumbled something about _delicate protective wards_, then the Faerie spoke up again, so soft that Tom had to wandlessly enhance his hearing. "Look, Alec, I'm just taking care of him. He's a foreigner, and he needed help. You should know that I have no ulterior motive behind this… I'm just doing this to help a human." Somehow, Tom knew that the Faerie was touching this _Alec _while he was saying this. The thought made his chest twinge, but he thought nothing of it.

The man sighed heavily before he acquiesced, "Alright, I know you can take care of yourself. You know how to contact me."

"Yes, Alec. Don't worry about me. Be careful."

Wait, was that a kiss on the cheek he heard?

"I will," and the man left, closing the door softly.

Tom lay in bed for a moment, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. Once he heard the Faerie climbing up the stairs, he countered the hearing-enhancement spell and sat up, swinging his legs out of bed. Just in time for the Faerie to open the bedroom door. What surprised Tom was that he was wearing normal clothing now: a pair of plain black pants, a simple shirt, and a vest that all still complimented his petite frame.

"How are you feeling?" he asked. He was carrying a wooden chopping board laden with a loaf of bread sprinkled with nuts next to some fruit and honey. The very sight made Tom's stomach growl. "Better, I see," he laughed, and set the board on the bedside table on Tom's right. Tom scowled lightly but scooted over to his breakfast while the Faerie drew up a chair from the corner of the room, facing it the opposite way to straddle the seat.

A long silence followed as Tom steadily ate the psomi and the fruits, and the Faerie continued to stare at him, his hands lightly gripping the back of the chair and his chin resting on his fingers. Those green doe eyes looking at Tom made him want to leave a feathery kiss on each lid, but he resisted.

"What are you called?" the Faerie asked as Tom was down to his last bit of bread.

For some reason, Tom did not want to tell him 'I am Lord Voldemort' for that would seem inappropriate considering this man need not know what he was trying to accomplish. Yet, his real name… "Tom Marvolo Riddle," he replied, almost robotically.

"Marvolo…" he whispered to himself, dragging out the vowels and giving the _'r'_ a Greek roll. Tom stopped eating and quirked an eyebrow at this.

"You know of him?" he inquired cautiously. But really, he had nothing to fear. Hadn't he set up that disgusting Morfin to rot in Azkaban?

The Faerie cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes, "Marvolo Gaunt… Related to Slytherin himself, yes?"

"Yes, the Gaunts."

"Such a shame, that family."

Tom pressed his lips together in confusion and apprehension. "What do you know of them?" he asked.

The Faerie frowned in thought, eyes straying elsewhere. "I think I remember meeting one along the way."

Tom was silent at this, a frown stretching across his face. Did he meet a Gaunt on the way here? No, the way he said it…

Suddenly the Faerie's eyes were back on him, but those eyes weren't looking at him but some _other _part of him. "Why do you practice the Dark Arts?" he asked, off-handedly.

Tom mistook his tone for harsh. "Who are you?" Tom asked, slowly putting down his meal. Was he wrong to have trusted this person? He should've been at least a _little_ more cautious_._ Tom looked back at the past days and resisted the urge to bury his head in his hands. _Why was I so idiotic? I shouldn't have trusted him! To let my guard down __now__ of all times? Well, I'll show him he can't –_

"Do you really want to know?"

* * *

The heels of worn dragonhide boots echoed along the Sidirochori headquarters corridor, the wearer walking slowly yet with purpose, towards his office. Alec was about to step through the threshold to his rather dismally furnished room when an underling stepped forward and caught his attention.

"Dellis, an elder wants to see you. She's in the smaller briefing room."

Alec nodded in affirmative and the messenger left. Alec had been called to elder meetings before, but never had an elder actually requested his audience. Anxiety seeped into his gut as he walked past other doors and finally, came to a controlled stop before a slightly grander one.

"Come in, Alec," a stern matronly voice said from inside before he even had a chance to knock.

Alec twisted the door knob and pushed it open. "You wanted to see me, elder Cerid?" he asked, voice belying his tense nervousness.

"Yes, yes. Close the door and come sit," she motioned authoritatively to the chair adjacent the rectangular table from her seat at the head.

Alec did as she commanded and she did not beat around the bush. Still straight-backed and poised as ever, she launched into her story. "A few days ago, elder Samuel sensed a disturbance in his area. As you know, Samuel is very sensitive to souls due to his prolonged exposure to the Forest." Alec nodded, and wondered where this was going. "He came into contact with a teenager – barely a man – that seemed to have no reign over his magical affinity. He was overwhelmingly Dark and, according to Samuel, had a shattered soul."

Alec felt the breath in his lungs whoosh out of him at the implications. "Elder Samuel is stationed in Albania, is he not, elder Cerid?"

The elder tucked a silver-grey strand of hair behind her ear. "Yes, he is. He failed to exterminate this human and he managed to Apparate to who knows where. However, Samuel _did_ manage to hit him with the _Adficio Phasma _curse just as the battle was beginning. So he couldn't have gotten far."

Alec thought this spell familiar, so he breathed out, "Adficio Phasma…" almost to himself; wracking his brain for its use.

"The Soul Sucking curse," she explained.

"Ah. So he must be greatly weakened?"

Cerid leaned forward to put her elbows on the table, her fingers weaving together. "Yes. I want you to alert your troops; be on the lookout. He is extremely dangerous and can only be defeated by an elder, especially if he is given the chance to fully recuperate."

Alec gulped and tightened his jaw, the light of steely resolve shining in his light brown eyes. "I will make sure to disseminate the information," he replied.

Elder Cerid nodded sternly and got up, picking up the silky winter shawl draped on the arm of her chair. Alec followed suit and briskly walked to the exit to hold the door open for the elder.

"Take care of yourself Alec," she said, her mothering instincts showing despite all her austerity. "It's almost winter. Elia would be happy to stay with you," she said, almost mumbling, as she wrapped the shawl around her shoulders.

Alec felt the earlier tension leave him and said, "Thank you, Ceridwen."

"Don't call me that," Cerid reprimanded, smiling faintly as she left.

**

* * *

**

The Faerie got up and turned his chair around to properly face Tom. "I think," he said, "Since it is only proper, you may call me… Elia."

Tom noticed the pause but disregarded it. "So what if I practice the Dark arts?"

"I have nothing against them," Elia said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "However, yours is a different case."

Tom groped the chest of his sleeping garb for his wand, causing Elia to raise an eyebrow. "You have nothing to fear from me, Tom," he said, rather monotonously as he pulled out the 13-inch yew from his inner vest pocket.

Tom stiffened and found that he could not wandlessly summon it back to him.

Elia hid the wand from view and continued instead with a non-sequitur, "What do you know of reincarnation, Tom?" he asked.

"I only know it exists. I did not delve into research of the afterlife," he replied, terse and stiff.

Elia only hummed and said, "And what do you know of magical affinities?"

"Humans and a few other creatures are capable of choosing their affinity. Other magical beings are born as Light, Neutral, or Dark. Where is this going?"

Elia crossed his legs and clasped his fingers on his knees. "I'm trying to help you, Tom. I suppose that, by now, you already know that I am aware of some things about you that you would rather keep hidden. I know you've made a Horcrux. Two, in fact."

Tom felt as if he were punched in the gut, but did not show it. In his surprise he almost bolted to the door. "Do you plan on destroying them?"

"Perhaps I was, but not anymore. Tell me, do you know that wizards and witches cannot ever be _completely _Dark or Light? Even the most powerful, even Merlin or Morgana, cannot – could not – be utterly Light or utterly Dark."

"Ridiculous. Of course –"

"No, Tom," Elia interrupted, berating Tom as if he were a child. "No human can be either of the extremes. That is reserved for magical creatures born with the affinity."

"There are people who have gone completely Dark or Light, Elia."

"Ah, but are they sane, Tom? Are they still _human_¹?"

Tom's eyes widened at that. "Are you telling me that…"

"No, not all of them are insane. Some of them… Are like you." Elia's voice lowered, his implied warning disturbing Tom greater than any senile grandfatherly-like reprimands.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"A magical human's affinity is restricted by their bodies and their souls. There is a barrier preventing you from being consumed by the Dark or dissolved by the Light. However, breaking the mind or breaking the soul can shatter this boundary. And a Horcrux does exactly that."

Tom was silent after this. Elia only looked at him with a passive expression, but somehow, Tom knew that he was extending silent support.

Tom's eyes fell to the floor beneath him as he rested his elbows on his knees. "What happens when a person is completely consumed by either extreme?" he asked, gaze not meeting Elia's.

"No one knows for sure."

Tom hummed absently, eyes staring at nothing, so he turned to look out the window behind him. Elia stood up and collected the remains of Tom's breakfast. Tom remained still as a statue, silently brooding, peering at – but not really seeing – the clearing below. He didn't know why he didn't question what The Faerie – Elia… told him. Tom wasn't sure whether he was lying or not, but his voice rang with truth, and Tom wasn't far enough consumed by the Dark to be completely blind to good intentions.

Elia sighed and walked out the door, not before throwing Tom another worried look over his shoulder. _Telling him was for the best. He needs help. _He convinced himself, hardening his resolve.

* * *

The next thing Tom was aware of was the moonlight shining through his battered window. He didn't even notice going back to sleep. He felt better than he did in ages, and thought that his magic must be back to normal. He stretched his neck, his shoulders, his hands and his legs, letting the magic flow through him like an energizing, crackling white-water rapid; following the contours of his muscles and twining serpent-like in his veins. He thought he, once again, heard voices downstairs, but the feel of his _powerful _magic returning to him was numbing him, intoxicating him, filling his ears with a rushing pressure.

Just as Tom was about to inhale to further relish in his fully recuperated state, something within him _broke. _Something within him was _angry. _

Tom's back arched dangerously off the bed, his body stiffly holding him in place. He wanted to cry out in pain, but he could not do so. It allowed him only to open and lock his jaw in a silent scream of agony and his eyes to open abnormally wide. Something _feral _inside him was clawing at some sort of flimsy barrier, and Tom knew he could not hold it back. It was furious and incensed, and it _would not _be stopped.

Thundering quick footsteps bounded up the stairs and two figures draped in the midnight darkness appeared in the doorway. One of them gasped with a feminine "Oh dear."

Tom could feel the darkness – darker and thicker than the night around him – whipping around his body, lashing out through the seams. He could feel it seeping, _oozing _like primordial fluid. The dark from within him felt like _acid_, burning away his skin and his mind, fizzling behind his eyeballs and gurgling in his mouth. It tasted like burnt flesh and rot.

He wanted to scream out, _'Help me!'_

But the pain did not –would not relent, and the longer his body held the creature back, the angrier it got. Somehow, Tom knew he would not be allowed to pass out. And the Faerie, he was among the two in the doorway who were now standing a few feet from his bed. The Faerie, when he spoke, his words rang true once more,

"Hang on, Tom. We'll help you."

yet they did nothing to soothe the savage beast.

* * *

¹ For the purposes of my story, let's just say that they weren't anymore.

**A/N: **I truly apologize for the wait, but I now more or less have the skeleton of what I want to accomplish with Resurface. I hope. Thanks for reading this far, and- _Imperio! Haha! You will now review this chaaapter. Dooo iiiit! -hisss- *insert maniacal laugh*_


	4. Rising

**Author's Notes:**

Rating: T (due to violence and some nudity.)

Pairing: TR/HP - Alternate Universe

Disclaimer: I do not, in any way, own Harry Potter. I do not make any money from writing this fic. All this is purely for entertainment (and a distraction from homework).

Summary of last chapter: We meet Alec, a 'protector' of some sort leading a branch of some sort of secret organization whose sub-elder was Tom's attacker (if you haven't deduced all of that yet). The Faerie reveals himself as Elia, a man with strange knowledge of magic, affinities, and Tom himself. Tom gets his magic back in full, but something is enraged and resurfaces with it.

I know an apology just isn't enough this time around. I had a very hard time figuring out where I wanted this story to go, and how I would rationalize Tom's decisions and psyche (THAT was pretty hard). But I think I'm happy with how this turned out. Next chapter will, hopefully, come sooner. I had planned to have that chapter and this combined, but figured that I should post something ASAP.  
I'd like to give a huuuuuuuuuuge THANK YOU to all my reviewers, **Paimpont, YaoiCookies87, choco1996, DDwelling, phoenixmaiden13, phirephox666, Kitsumi-Hime, Neylian, 999KitKat999, brightsun89, Madd Girl, **and **galliechan.** Please know that _all _reviews are great motivators for me, and that I truly appreciate the effort!

**_- - - - Resurface - - - -_**

**_Chapter 4: Rising_**

Faces, angry, warped: there were hundreds of them, and at the same time, only one. Tom saw them in the black ooze that attempted to consume him from within some primordial alleyway within him; connecting to some unknown source of pure darkness. All of them wanted to burst forth from his fragile mortal body, and the pressure beneath Tom's skin felt like the very bones in his body were being broken by a massive force coming from inside.

"I can already see the beginnings of insanity in you, Tom. Your edges are fraying. If you continue on this path, you will most likely lose sight of your goal," said Elia as he stood at Tom's bedside. "Rodia, restrain him."

Tom was more than panicked, though his form, stiff and jerking with spasms, did not show it. He could feel Darkness inside him, swelling and bursting along with the natural restoration of his Magic. He wanted to lash out, to release the magic before it burst. _No, _it wasn't _his_ magic_. _His magic didn't feel this – this _feral _and _crazed. _Something inhuman was growling from the depths, it wanted to _Crucio _Elia, over and _over and over and –_

"What a violent reaction. You have been pushing yourself too much, Tom. Even the strongest of wizards should not dabble this much in the Forbidden. Rodia?"

A petite girl with a beautifully wild mane of hair had successfully tied Tom's four limbs down to the bedposts with invisible magical bindings.

"Successful. He won't be hurting anyone anytime soon. But I don't know how it's possible to even save him, Elia, not when he's this far…" she replied, wringing the hem of her dress anxiously. In front of her, Tom strained violently against his bindings, opening and closing his mouth between gasped breaths, making his teeth gnash together painfully.

"Don't worry, Rodia. We are limitless, so it's fine," Elia replied as he started to gather the magic from within his soul and within the astral plane his soul connected to.

Rodia's hair seemed to explode as she rounded on him, both furious and fearful. "No, no it's not, _Elia! _You could – this could tie your soul to him! You know you can't do that, it's dangerous and unpredictable and…"

"Shh. It's going to be fine, I'm still just technically helping. _Protego,_" Elia cast, and a translucent, almost intangible light emanated from the tips of his fingers, which were outstretched over Tom's body. As soon as Ellia had begun gathering his magic, Tom had ceased his feral struggling, but the darkness was still whipping around him, resembling an agitated wild cat. The light from Elia's fingertips twined and twisted and meshed itself over Tom's tense body, supporting and protecting him against the Darkness that was within himself.

"I didn't know Protego could take on a form different from its usual crude shield," Rodia stated, fascinated by the natural structure the wisps had taken.

"It can't. It's only different now because our magic is pure," Elia replied.

Tom, who was slowly coming back to his senses, could barely understand the conversation going on as he was slowly restored to sanity. _Limitless? Soul? Pure? _What were these people talking about? Hostility and curiosity warred within him, but the straining and slight breaking of the mesh over him woke him from his thoughts.

"Elia?" the woman asked.

"The darkness… It only grows more incensed as time passes. _Cave Inimicum_," he uttered, and the wisps took on a more tangible silvery form. The Dark tentacles receded slightly, but lashed out again after a few seconds, and Tom was once again slowly losing his mind.

"It's torn between going into recession and fighting against your pure magic, Elia," Rodia said, biting her fingernails. Beside her, Elia began to pant.

"I can't keep this up, it doesn't seem like it's going to retreat anytime soon. Tom, I'm sorry about this, but I'm afraid it's necessary to save you. _Adficio Phasma_," he ground out, and suddenly Tom felt both weakened and powerful. He felt as if he had taken control of his own mind, but somehow had lost power: the raw dark power the Darkness had provided him, lost.

Almost immediately, the inky tentacles began to wither away in midair. Some of them died completely and others slunk back down into Tom's body, hiding away for when their newest puppet called them out to play once again. The searing pain Tom felt was now gone, and he found that he was properly coherent.

Rodia watched as magic was sucked out of Tom and into Elia and he visibly collected himself. A long moment passed in which gradually more magic was sucked out of Tom, but a second more and Elia relented, releasing the Soul Sucking spell. Tom lay in bed, eyes still dazed and mouth hung open, panting breaths to the rhythm of his racing heart beat. Perspiration dotted his skin, and his limbs felt strained and numb. He felt like he hadn't breathed air in a decade.

"Rodia? Would you kindly…"

"You think it safe now, Elia?"

"Yes, with the both of us here now and his magic at this low a level, we should have no problem with him," Elia replied as he washed his hands in a small basin stationed on a small cabinet beside Tom's bed. It seemed as if he were cleansing his hands from the taint of the Darkness. One could never be too careful.

Rodia approached Tom hesitantly, and though he was feeling too drained to even lift a finger, Tom tried to glare at the girl who dared touch him. Apparently it wasn't menacing enough, and she merely raised an eyebrow at him as she released the spell binding his limbs. Tom felt almost as he did after fighting the old man in Albania: extremely weak, tired, and fed up.

After a while, Elia felt that Tom had recuperated enough to be able to understand him. He sat at the side of his bed.

"Tom, can you hear me?" Elia asked. Rodia immediately stood at his side and placed a supporting hand on his shoulder. Tom nodded almost imperceptibly but trained his eyes on Elia despite his exhaustion.

"Good. I know you must be confused right now, but I'll try to explain to you what you need to know. For I'm sure you might be less inclined to be rational in the morning. I used the _Adficio Phasma _curse on you because, as you may have noticed, the Darkness was growing in proportion to your own magic. Protecting charms didn't work because the Dark was already part of you – actually, it's part of all humans as a base foundation, but it usually doesn't approach the level where it actually attempts to overtake the host," Elia explained.

"I need to be… kept… weak?" Tom asked in between shaky breaths.

"Yes, but hopefully not as weak as this, because Rodia and I will be staying with you and…" Elia trailed off. Tom did not see the significance of them being there to the Darkness possessing him utterly, but he guessed that there must have been something more that Elia didn't mention.

"I'll explain the rest another time, Tom," Elia ended abruptly. He reached over and positioned Tom's arms at his sides comfortably, for Tom hadn't the energy to move them from where they were spread-eagled near the bedposts.

Tom nodded, this time more noticeably, and Elia wiped a cloth over his forehead.

"I'm truly sorry Tom. If you sincerely want to abort from this path you've started walking, then I'll be happy to help you."

Tom stopped breathing for a moment as he tried to digest the implications of him turning away from the Dark.

"You don't have to think about it now. We'll talk about it another time," Elia said, trailing his hands over his cheek gently. He wiped Tom's neck with the towel and replaced Tom's sweat-soaked sheets with fresh ones with a quick conjure. Tom was utterly baffled by Elia's care, but couldn't muster the venom to actually berate him about it.

"Rest, Tom. Holler if you need us."

A long silence followed, along with Tom's careful breaths.

Elia nodded to Rodia as they made to head out the door when suddenly a soft "Thank you" emerged from Tom's lips. The pair smiled at each other.

"You're welcome," Rodia replied.

* * *

Alec was in his dimly lit office, nursing a glass of lukewarm whiskey. He found that the liquor lubricated his thoughts a bit, and helped him think. And right now, he definitely needed to wrack his brains a bit more than usual. _Elia, _he thought to himself. Could the human Elia be helping…

Impossible. And yet…

"Chief, what's got your knickers in a twist? Is it what the elder summoned you about?" asked Alec's subordinate, Oren.

"Yes, it's what I just informed all the squad leaders of," Alec replied, letting the glass rest upon his forehead.

"Ah, that guy they were tracking down? The disturbance in Albania?" he queried as he sat in one of the office chairs facing Alec's desk.

"Hmm," Alec put down the glass and steepled his fingers together. "Actually, I've got a hunch on where he might be."

"What!" Oren cried, shooting up from the seat he had just taken. "Then let's go! Didn't you mention in the message that he must be apprehended immediately?"

"I'm afraid someone might be protecting him," relpied Alec, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples.

Oren quieted at this and fell back against his seat. "Who would be daft to actually take a _murderer _under their wing?"

"It isn't safe to make those assumptions, Oren," Alec berated.

"The only way to split someone's soul is to murder someone, _or _if they're insane, it's highly likely that they _have _already murdered someone anyway!" Oren replied, but silenced afterwards when Alec sent him a pointed look.

Alec sighed and placed his palms flat on the table. "I guess there's nothing really holding us back from simply going on the offensive and taking the intruder by force, is there?" he asked rhetorically.

"Then let's send out our best squad right now," replied Oren, excited by the prospect of a fight.

"I'll have to confirm the situation first before we do anything drastic," said Alec as he drew his wand out of its arm holster. His stance made it clear that this was a solo mission.

"Sure thing, boss! We'll be right on standby for when you get back."

_Oh Elia, I just hope that my hunch is wrong. _

* * *

Tom Marvolo Riddle lay there amongst his fresh, crisp white sheets and stared at the ceiling, unseeing and unblinking. His fingers traced the creases of the cotton absentmindedly, and his thoughts wandered far, far from the forests of Greece and the diadem in Albania.

"_You're a freak, Riddle! A freak! Stay away from me!"_

"_Watch out for that Riddle kid. I heard _he _was the one that hung Billy's rabbit from the rafters. They don't know how he did it, but I'm sure it was him."_

"_Think you're so high and mighty, huh, Riddle? You've got nothing but your tattered books!"_

"_You can't play with us, Riddle. No one wants you, a freak like you'd just drag us down."_

He vowed to himself that he would never dwell on those memories of his pathetic past. He swore that he would never acknowledge the part of him that believed the words those _filthy _Muggles spouted. Him, an inconvenience and a nuisance? Tom Marvolo Riddle, something beneath their _stature_?

Never.

"_You're never gonna amount to anything, Tom! And you're never gonna leave this orphanage either!"_

He was never going to amount to anything. Yes, that's what they said to him; what they screamed at him when he only wanted to play. To be embraced like those other children he saw on the streets.

Why was he thinking about the orphanage again?

Oh yes.

He was analyzing his fear of Death, and consequently, his quest for Immortality.

Immortality.

The bright star guiding him down the path of destruction.

He held no doubt within him that what Elia spoke of about the Darkness consuming him was true. Perhaps it was because the knowledge was not admitted, but was ingrained in every witch and wizard; for the black and white extremas formed the very foundations of their magic. And though they had forgotten all about the Old Rules, this simple warning was embedded into their psyche:

_Don't get too close to the flame, or you'll get burnt._

And perhaps because he felt it for himself. Felt, in the very depths of the night – every time his consciousness was split between awake and dreaming – his control slipping away from him. His ideals losing shape, his fear and bloodlust driving him to kill without mercy nor direction.

Fear. Bloodlust.

Bloodlust was easy enough to explain. Tom hated Muggles with a vengeance. They had shunned him from their presence when he was the superior race. He, a _wizard_, kicked and spat upon by Muggles? Even an Avada Kedavra was a weak verdict in the face of their transgressions. This emotion was easily explainable. It was simple hate.

No, not hate. Muggles did not deserve his hate. That would mean that they were on the same level when Tom was clearly superior. They deserved only his _contempt._

A voice whispered in the back of Tom's head, weak, insignificant, but still there. It said, boldly yet warily: _I hate them because I only ever wanted to be one of them, to be accepted._ The whisper niggled at the back of his mind, making it easy for Tom to shake it off violently – and that was what he did.

However…

Fear.

Tom Marvolo Riddle. What do you fear?

You fear being inferior. Being underestimated. Not being seen as who you really can be.

You fear being dissolved into the masses. You see yourself as a beacon in a sea of writhing useless flesh – despite them being wizards and witches. Tom Marvolo Riddle, you are not amongst their number. You are _different._

You believe you have something to offer to this disgusting grey world. You can mold them into the vision you hold most dear.

Yet you fear yourself unable to live up to this Herculean task.

You fear the one thing you cannot comprehend. Time – the passage of time – and in extension: decay, entropy. The sands slipping through your tightly closed fist; so tight your knuckles turn white and your palms drip rubies. Much like how your sanity has now been trickling slowly through that very same fist. Do you intend to fight fire with fire then, Riddle? Kill yourself through other means before death comes for you himself?

Death.

It can never quite be explained in textbooks or grimoires or dusty old tomes.

But he found a remedy. His horcruxes. He had already made two. He could almost taste it. The actualization of everything that _could. _It was like viscous _tar_, sensuously dripping –

No.

_ "__What happens when a person is completely consumed by either extreme?"_

That wasn't his ideals.

_"No one knows for sure."_

They were not tar. This, _this_ is something else. This thick midnight black ooze, tempting him to dive in, was not the realization of his dreams. It was something else.

The weak whisper niggled at his mind again, this time braver.

_You fear being underestimated? Or rather, falling to the level those Muggles accused you to be on?_

_ You fear that after all these years you spent latching and clawing and dragging your way up past the wretched battlefield of hierarchy and school politics, that the unjust accusations thrown at you in the orphanage were actually all… true._

_ That despite being a man of massive magical ability and prowess, that you are a __**freak.**_

Tom shivered in his small bed, gasping for breath and clutching at the sheets. Desperate for some sort of physical tether. He felt as if he was being taken away. He unconsciously slid his body into a fetal position.

He breathed out shakily, trying hard as he could to keep himself grounded. Lying down, he felt as if he would simply float away.

But Tom had proven that he wasn't a **freak**, hadn't he? He found out through that crackpot old fool Dumbledore that he wasn't… strange; that he was actually a _wizard. _He went to Hogwarts for seven years just to hone and fine-tune his magic, and not just that! He had even managed to be a prodigy. He excelled far beyond his peers and commanded their respect and attention with his suave and charm.

Surely, he had risen past petty childhood accusations and bullying?

Hadn't he?

…

Yes.

Yes, he had.

Tom was his own man now, and he had proven – not only to himself, but to the whole world – that he was **not a freak.**

He was Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Yes, he was Tom Marvolo Riddle, a man who struck fear, awe and respect within masses, without the need for a shadowy monicker like _Voldemort. _Flight from death indeed, being merrily on his way to conquering mortality when he finds out that once he's achieved that, that he wouldn't even be mentally healthy enough to actually _enjoy _it.

Funny how we deal with our fears with _laughter._¹

In the bed on the second floor of a small cottage in a clearing, Tom Marvolo Riddle chuckled.

He had made his decision.

* * *

¹ Taken from Kurt Vonnegut's "A Man Without A Country"

**A/N: **Once again, I apologize deeply for the very long wait! Please take the time to review and tell me if the long wait time in between was worth it. You know you just wanna flame me.


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